I may have finally cracked the code around I, Tyrant.
Not the actual, overwhelmingly meta storyline extravaganza as teased/promised by creators e e zann and Godfarr. I mean why, after this much story so far, I just can’t connect with this dang series. And why, after a promising enough start in issues #1 and #2, I basically threw my hands up and questioned the book’s overall vitality and depth by issue #3.
It’s because issue #4 makes it clear that I, Tyrant doesn’t have a clue what’s going on or what its doing, that’s why.
Here’s the recap: The writer Hafez begins crafting the story of Zahhak (a 7th century king) while living in Iran. When he leaves the country several years back (alongside his wife, the ever-sensible Elli), he keeps weaving this tale against the advice of everyone (his father, his therapist, etc.) Now, facing the threat of deportation, Hafez finds himself unable to focus on anything but the story that he can’t quite finish even as his very life seemingly hangs in the balance.
This whole time I’ve tried to have the ultimate level of patience. I’ve focused on the art from Godfarr, which captures both the intense flailing of Hafez and the blood-soaked majesty of Zahhak in such a way that I could almost understand what their parallel journey and eventual coalescence might offer. I even tried to focus just on Zahhak’s story; that saga had the right theatrical spin (complete with genuinely solid, era-appropriate poetic dialogue) to feel special even when other parts of this story (read: Hafez!) floundered for proper meaning.
I even just told myself that if I somehow made it to the end of the series/arc, I’d be rewarded with some deeper insight into what I, Tyrant is ultimately trying to do as a multifaceted, boundary-blurring piece of fiction. I wanted this book to work for me with the desperation of 1,000 wandering souls in the world’s driest desert.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
And what did I get for all my patience and understanding? Why I, Tyrant #4, where the king eats and screws some maidens and Hafez manages to disconnect himself further from the people trying to keep him grounded (and, again, alive in all likelihood). That, and nearly half an issue where Zahhak grows the giant snake-demon thingies seen since the series began, complete with droning, ultimately pointless conversations about their origins and what kind of meat they’d prefer.
And, as a piece de resistance, an even more pointless reveal about what these “appendages” might mean for Zahhak and his recent ascension to his father’s throne. Quick, feed me to the snake-demon and save me from further horrors.
I think part of why I’ve held on for so long is that I wanted to be rewarded with something meaningful, and I felt the creators had the inventive streak and general passion to deliver. And, don’t get my wrong, I, Tyrant has demonstrated shiny glimpses of such genius — few other books could keep me as dedicated and hooked with as many overt flaws and general shortcomings. (Issue #4 highlights the series’ often slow, painful build; tendency to repeat; a habit of over-/under-selling key story points; and the increasingly unclear arc and trajectory of this overall story.)
But I don’t think that “prize” is ever coming , and it’s clear to me now that it’s never been a case of me being unprepared mentally or emotionally for I, Tyrant. No, it’s that there may not actually be anything here of sustained value.
The whole snake-demon “incident” within this issue proves to me that this story’s only truly applicable analogy for real-life creativity is regarding zann himself. That maybe he had a few solid bullet points for a story — to be explored via these deeply meta, almost “dueling” storylines — about the relationship between creator and creation. (And how that is more precisely reflected in the modern world.) But beyond that, it doesn’t seem as if there was much done, beyond a little flash and sizzle, to make the skeleton concept something with a true pulse.
And so issue #4 spends its time asking dumb questions, dragging the reader along as they seek their own reasons for moving forward, and ultimately we’re all left with nothing to our names. It is, like the king’s own post-meal orgy, ultimately just a big tease for one and all, and all that blood, sex, violence, and low-level palace intrigue is just a cover for a hole more gaping than 100 spider-demon exit wounds.
It’s clear now that we cannot find something greater here because there is nothing else to be found. That the big reveal we are waiting to unfold isn’t coming to the rescue, and zann is not as much of a Zahhak as he’d perhaps like to think. Instead, he is much closer to Hafez — this stumbling Peter Pan who will waste everyone’s time and energy telling a story with no point or no larger value.
And, very much like the wife or the therapist, our own commitment to this man (based not on love but rather a passion for a storyteller whom we think exuded the gumption merited to earnestly follow) will only ever be repaid with needless delays and extensions, half-cocked displays of storytelling illusion, and the endless promise of a carrot between the stick bashing us in the face and hands until we can’t really feel anything at all. Devotion, friends, is a trap.
Courtesy of Image Comics.
I would say I’m mad about this “development,” but then I think it’s actually quite funny — maybe even bordering on the genius. No other story has fooled me quite as well into believing it had genuine had depth and purpose, or made me feel so tiny for not connecting the dots and cracking this bad boy wide open. But for nothing to happen by now must be exactly why people love Seinfeld: You think there’s something bigger here, but it’s all arguments about soup or couches or whatever, and really it’s just more of the creator airing out his own issues and grievances with the shimmer afforded by a laugh track.
(I do want to pause here and add that there should be a distinction between zann and Godfarr. Yes, comics are the melding of visual and story into something bigger/more revealing/with greater substance. But a lot of these issues I have are primarily to do with zann’s script, and his relationship or antagonism of readers by making the story about himself and forcing us recognize in just what shape or configuration. Issue #4 may be my least favorite issue — or it is my favorite for its revealing nature? — but Godfarr’s art soars — when divorced from the sheer context of I, Tyrant, of course. The intro section celebrating Zahhak’s crowning, for instance, felt like poetry made manifest, and the dancing and use of repetition brought you in with vigor and gusto. Moments like that stand out and have complicated and/or extended my relationship to this book.)
In some ways, I almost applaud zann for getting me so far before realizing, with a trail of sweat down my neck and my hands shaking, that I likely bet on the wrong horse. That I’ve beaten myself up for months for not seeing it, and told myself to battle against my own instincts to give this thing the benefit of the doubt. The devil’s greatest trick, I’d like to instead suggest, is making me think I, Tyrant could be good.
And I still welcome the idea that I’m actually wrong about everything, and that maybe I’ve missed it all along through hubris or dullness. But at this point, I care less about that, and instead find myself more more concerned with my own critical instincts. I’ve spent years (between reviewing both music and comics) in honing my sense of taste. It’s a preference that’s not inherently better than anyone, but I’ve cultivated it and trusted it, and it’s that sense of “I know what’s good and can explain why/why not” that has earned me even a shred of praise or effectiveness.
To doubt that has been hard enough on me, and now I’m glad that I can kick loose the pretense and embrace my increasing disdain for this book. That I feel like I’ve turned a corner, of sorts, and I should better trust my own feelings/instincts when it comes to stories. It’s not about being right or wrong (because that’s not how criticism works, folks) — rather, it’s about knowing your own preferences, defending them with vigor, and being satisfied that you’ve said something of value. Huh, is there a lesson here for all writers everywhere?
Courtesy of Image Comics.
It occurs to me, in the midst of writing this, that such a revelation may actually put me closer to Hafez than I’d ever like to admit. And that, as an extension of that idea, perhaps that has been the One True Point of I, Tyrant all along. Only if that is the case, the only person who reached that point is me, myself, and I. Regardless, by accepting things — there is no treasure to be uncovered here, or it’s likely not worth it if there is something — I’ve regained that which is essential to me as a critic: That glowing core of my own humanity.
It’s extra clear to me now that if I’m to continue do this job right, I must never be afraid to embrace said core. When I’ve avoided it as I have so far, I only torture myself in pursuit of feigned intellectual prowess. But by embracing this singular sense of myself, I can now say, “God, I think this book has been a waste of time.” And when I do, I feel more assured, more confident that I’ve arrived at a truth. Not necessarily a novel one, or one with heaps of value. But if reading this book has taught me anything, it’s that truth doesn’t have to be creative; it just has to feel good.
All that’s to so that I’ll still be back for I, Tyrant #5. Not because I think the finale will prove me wrong. (But I welcome that miracle like snow in downtown Phoenix.) Rather, because I want to see the end of this arc, and to have stood at the edge of this world and known I was right all along or that I missed the mark by a country mile. To feel that weight of what’s truly sublime in life — the definitive heft of your own certainty.
And if I can see the whole shape of this thing, then perhaps that will make me a better reader/critic/person down the line — someone who made the effort to test themselves (as stories ought to try and do), and who came out the other end changed somehow. That’s the thing that gives me a sliver of hope, and makes me want to keep reading stories.
Now, how’s that for a character-driven story arc?
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